


Where He Cannot Follow

by itsavolcano



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
Genre: Angsty but Happily Ever After, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, TW: Alistar Fitz, Time Travel, True Love, Yearning and Longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: She was a scientist and preferred the laws of nature, but the laws surrounding her abilities were untethered and irrational. She wanted to remain fixed in place, in one timeline. She wanted to remain here in this now, with her husband...Written for the 2017 FitzSimmons Secret Santa. Prompt: The Time Traveler's Husband





	Where He Cannot Follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookishandbossy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandbossy/gifts).



> Special thanks to dilkirani for enduring my freakouts. I could've written 100x more scenes, I loved playing in this universe so much. Stocking Stuffer Bonus: [Where He Cannot Follow Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3LJlZBWI8w&list=PLqfJW0V1bpnTI2LhFRe1IjEYhL4w0bT6i)

**_Fitz:_ **

_ I have known her all my life. My favorite memories, she is there, this echo of light, glimmering at the edges of darkness. I was not a happy child but on the days I saw her, I felt hopeful—Somewhere in the universe was a person that understood me. _

_ It is strange and impossible. I kept her a secret—how else can a boy explain the grown woman appearing out of thin air? No, that wouldn’t have gone over very well. But still I met her, time and time again. And I would change none of it. Well, maybe some of it. That summer day before I left for uni, for example— _

**_Jemma:_ **

_ What’s it like? It’s unquantifiable, and that, of course, is infuriating. _

_ One moment, I am standing in the living room, on the ornate rug my mother-in-law gave us for our anniversary. I can feel it under my bare feet, the pile soft and giving as I press my toes into it. I am standing there, piping hot mug of tea in hand—splash of milk, no sugar—and I am watching my husband as he heads across our garden to our garage, a makeshift lab. _

_ He is beautiful although he would hate to hear me say it. He has often scrunched up his face and glared all the while telling me that men are not beautiful—men are handsome. I disagree and kiss him before he can argue, telling him he manages to be an anomaly, since I find him to be both of these things. _

_ In truth, I am the anomaly. I should not exist, and yet as I stand on the rug in our living room, my eyes tracking this man I love, contentment filling my belly with each sip of tea, I do. I exist. _

_ Then, in a flash, in a blink, I exist somewhere else. _

_ I am in an overgrown field, caught in the rain, and naked. Always naked. Or, I am in a market, mixed in with the tinned goods, grasping for anything to hide my body. It’s quite unsettling, opening your eyes to find you’re somewhere else, somewhere you had no intention of going. Because if I had it my way, if I could, I would never leave him. I would remain right there on the plush rug, tea in hand as I stay in his orbit. _

_ But, as fate would have it—and I suppose, given the circumstances, I must call it fate, for science has yet to give me either proof or reason—I go where he cannot follow. _

xXx

**_Jemma, 28 (Jemma, 6)_ **

Jemma first time traveled during the weekend of her sixth birthday. Her parents had taken her to London and at the time it was the furthest she’d been from home. She’d loved it. Her favorite part had been the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, where she and her father gleefully wandered the halls for hours. They had even stood in the long line to see the meridian despite her mother’s protests of the waning afternoon and Jemma’s growing exhaustion.

Looking back, snuggled in her father’s arms as he carried her from the museum, dozing and warm, it was the last time Jemma felt truly safe.

Twenty minutes later, on their way back to the hotel, there was an explosion on the Tube. One moment, she had been sleeping against her father’s shoulder and the next moment, the train car careened sideways.

It had been terrifying and loud and smoke had filled her lungs but when she opened her eyes she was back in the observatory, her toes right up against the meridian marker. The seconds had ticked by as Jemma, small and frightened, stood on that spot until a woman with her father’s kind amber eyes and her mother’s cooling touch reached out for her, guided her through the corridors to her favorite spot: the planetarium to look at the stars as they were at the exact moment.

Now, decades and countless experiments later, Jemma understood her ability as a dormant genetic trait—a mutation first triggered by the trauma suffered on her sixth birthday and the need for self-preservation. A drastic response to the fight or flight synapse. But at the age of six, nothing made sense and it had all felt like a dream.

When Jemma transported back to the destroyed train car, her parents were battered and bruised, but alive, and frantically screaming for her. Everything about the event—from the explosion to the time jumping—had been traumatic and surreal. She wasn’t the only member of her family to suffer a long-term shock—her mother’s anxiety and PTSD from the event would play a large part in her parents’ brief separation. They, of course, would reconcile, but the events of that day had a lasting reach on the Simmons family and so many others who weren’t quite as lucky.

Now it was up to her to help this younger version of herself through this self-discovery. A blue light flashed nearby and Jemma headed for the meridian marker, a gift shop t-shirt and a packet of crisps already in hand. She remembered being quite hungry when she appeared all those years ago.

xXx

**_Fitz, 17 (Jemma, 17)_ **

His eyes were playing tricks on him. It was exhaustion and homesickness coupled with general second day jitters, Fitz was sure of it. The girl sitting in the front row of the lecture hall (right smack in the middle, he might add) was not the mysterious traveler that had visited him so often over the years. For starters, she was too young and then there was, of course—

Before he could finish his thought, she glanced over her shoulder, his dumbfounded expression catching her eye. She furrowed her brow as she sized him up until he blinked and looked away. From the corner of his eye Fitz watched as she turned primly back around in her seat. How had he missed seeing her yesterday when the professor had handed out the syllabus?

Then, as if to add an unexpected layer to the already surreal sight, she reached down into her backpack and pulled out a cardigan. A turquoise cardigan. After slipping her arms in the sleeves, she took a band from her wrist and deftly pulled her long silky hair into a ponytail before picking her pencil back up and returning to her notes.

Fitz was thunderstruck. It was as if he were watching a prophecy come true and in a manner of speaking, _he was_. His mouth went dry as he watched her follow along with the professor. His mysterious time traveler was here, in this room. What had Jemma first told him of her abilities? That they’d started young—when she was six, at the observatory in London. Which meant  _ this  _ Jemma could already travel through time. And  _ other people _ could see her.

She was sitting in the front row, listening intently to Dr. Hall explain the rudimentary concepts of physics while all along, her mere existence could turn their textbook on its head. No one else in this room had any idea she was so special. But Fitz knew. She was special and brilliant and—He watched, enraptured, as she raised her hand to answer whatever question Hall had posed. Again and again, as the class time ticked on, she raised her hand and Hall ate it up. No doubt, he’d never expected someone to be so excited by physics on the first day of proper lectures.

“Ah, yes, you in the third row. Leopold.” Hall pointed up at him and Fitz blinked, awareness crashing back down as he realized he’d raised his hand at some point. He wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard the question, but whatever response he rattled off seemed to please the professor.

When Fitz chanced a glance at Jemma she was scowling at him.  _ What  _ the hell? Unbelievable. Suddenly, he had the urge to show off a little—to prove to her that he was just as smart as she was, and that together, the two of them would be unstoppable…

He shifted in his seat and did his best to focus back on the lecture, raising his hand and interjecting at various points. The first few times he answered, Jemma shot him a look. But eventually she stopped turning around. Fitz assumed it was difficult to move with her shoulders practically at her ears.

Soon, the lecture ended, and she darted out the door. Fitz quickly shoved his notebook into the flapping mouth of his book bag and hurried after her. She was moving too fast and Fitz had to practically run to catch up.

“Jemma!” He called out and to his surprise, she stopped. He came up next to her, doubling over slightly to catch his breath. Up close she was just as beautiful as he’d remembered. Of course, Fitz had never seen her quite so furious before—at least not while it was directed at him.

“What is it? Want to follow me to all my classes today just to prove to everyone you’re smarter than me?” She glared. “Quite absurd if you ask me. I get that we’re  _ both  _ young protégés, but honestly, this isn’t a spaghetti western. This town  _ is _ big enough for the both of us…”

She was talking so fast it was dizzying. He hadn’t done that, had he? He wasn’t trying to show her up—he had been trying to impress her…

“No, that’s not what I—I wasn’t—” He stopped and tried to order his thoughts while she continued to watch him impatiently. “This might sound completely mental. No, in fact, I  _ know _ it does. But I happen to know you and I—from this moment on—are inseparable.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. If he weren’t vibrating with nerves at the moment, if he weren’t still panting from chasing after her, he would’ve thrown his head back and laughed. This was definitely, without a doubt, the woman he’d known since he was a boy. And in real time. Only  _ she _ had ever managed to give him such a withering look.

“Oh really? Listen, Leop—”

“Fitz, actually. It’s just Fitz.” He cringed, remembering the countless times the professor had addressed him as such during the lecture. He’d had more important things on his mind than to correct him.

“Listen,  _ Fitz_,” she amended, annoyed, “I don’t know how often that sort of chat-up line works, but it won’t work on me.” 

“Oh, it’s—it’s not a chat-up line. I’m not—” He scratched anxiously at the shell of his ear. “I have it on very good authority… it’s a proven fact.”

“Oh?” She crossed her arms, hip tilted to one side in defiance. “And whose authority might that be?”

“Yours.”

xXx

**_Jemma, 30 (Fitz, 8)_ **

The first time Fitz saw her it was the dead of winter in Glasgow. While she had seen him throughout the years, both backwards and forwards, for him this December day was the first time a strange, naked woman materialized out of nowhere.

It was too cold to play outside and yet here he was, throwing pebbles at a mound of shoveled snow as Jemma yelped and darted behind a huge stack of firewood. She remembered Fitz telling her of the times his father’s shouting grew too unbearable and he would slip off to hide in the vacant lot down the road from his childhood flat.

She also remembered Fitz telling her, years later, that when she first appeared to him, there had been a zap of light against the navy sky. Jemma had only witnessed such a thing once, when she was 28 and a little girl had appeared in the observatory. Considering she was usually distracted by her atoms all breaking apart and reconfiguring in a completely different place during a completely different time, it was hardly surprising she missed a few details.  

“Who’s there?” His small voice called out and Jemma winced, unsure exactly what to do.

It was too freezing for her to remain still, and yet she was completely naked. Of all the things she hated about time jumping, it was the fact that her clothes didn’t rematerialize with her that annoyed her the most. She understood it from a basic science perspective but it was quite the issue when trying not to get hauled off to jail for public indecency.

“Oh, um, hello.” She shivered as she carefully leaned up and gave him a cautious wave. “Hi, there, Fitz. I’m Jemma and I’m quite cold. Do you think you can go find me something to wear?”

“Mama says not to talk to strangers and you’re definitely a stranger.”

“Well, how can I be a stranger when I already know your name?”

“Nobody calls me Fitz. I want them to, but they don’t.” Even from this distance, Jemma could see the ever-so-slight but defiant lift of his chin as he gestured back to the complex. “You could’ve picked any name from the letterboxes over there. Rules of probability just tipped in your favor, s’all.”

“Alright, then.” He was far too smart for Jemma’s own good and she was bound to catch hypothermia. At this rate, it was best to play dumb. “What  _ is  _ your name?”

“Leopold,” he glowered, apparently giving up on his notion about speaking to strangers without much pushing. Jemma would’ve been alarmed if she weren’t quite so starkers. “After my great-grandfather.” 

“Do you prefer to be called Leopold or, perhaps, Leo?”

The little boy continued to sulk, a rock curled up in his tiny hand. “I already told you, I prefer neither.”

“Yes, you’d much rather be called Fitz, I know.” Jemma’s teeth chattered. “If you fetch me something warm to wear—head to toe—and maybe a hot drink, I will call you by whatever name you’d like.”

“I don’t know you. Why should I help?”

_ Because your mother is raising a kind, considerate boy who will grow up into a man who strives to help others, regardless. _

“Because, I’m very far from home and I could use a friend.”

She watched for a moment as he considered both her and her words. Then, to her relief, he turned on his heel and darted back to his flat. Minutes later, he returned with a bag full of the clothes she’d grown accustomed to from all of her other visits. Quickly, Jemma dressed, first pulling on the trousers and jumper, and then the fur-lined slippers and hat. He’d even managed to snag her a thick blanket.

“These aren’t your mother’s things…” Jemma finally stepped out from behind the pile of wood, gesturing to the elaborate satin goose embroidered on the front of the mauve jumper. She’d never thought to mention it before.

The little boy snorted and wiped at his nose, red from the winter air. He shoved a thermos out for her to take.

“It’s soup.” Fitz drew his hand back quickly, as if afraid to touch her. “And those are from Old Lady Heaney’s. The lock on her back door is the easiest to crack and well—”

“Oh, Fitz!” Jemma scolded between gulps from the thermos and his eyes went round in surprise, no doubt shocked by the easy way she said his preferred name. Then his gaze narrowed, his little mouth drawn up.

“Are you the Doctor?”

Jemma sputtered, mid-gulp. Well, she did have two PhDs on her wall and she happened to time travel… “In a manner of speaking, yes.” She wiped away her tomato soup mustache with the sleeve of Old Lady Heaney’s disastrous jumper.

“Do you travel around to different time periods? Have you been to Egypt to see the pharaohs?” His blue eyes sparked with excitement. “Or—or how about the start of all time? Were you there for the Big Bang?”

“Unfortunately,” she gestured around, “I haven’t got a TARDIS. So it’s a bit unruly for me, this whole space travel thing.”

“Oh.” He frowned in thought. “So you can’t go just  _ any_where?” 

“Nope. I don’t really have much control over it.”

“That’s dumb.” His mouth curled up at the corner and she chuckled.

“Yes, I quite agree.”

Then, without much warning at all and as if to prove her point, she felt her vision blur and the bottom of her consciousness drop out. When she opened her eyes again, she was back in their cottage, the pieces of a shattered cup and saucer in a pool of tepid tea at her bare feet, the tang of tomato soup still on her tongue.

xXx

**_Jemma, 30 (Fitz, 10)_ **

Standing at the back of the auditorium, doing her best to remain inconspicuous, Jemma clasped both hands around her throat. She could feel her pulse thundering under her touch, her nerves ratcheting up as she watched Fitz anxiously bounce his foot on the freshly polished linoleum. She remembered his mother had to work a double shift at the hospital that day and so Fitz was left by himself, waiting for his turn to present at the regional science fair. The last two times Jemma had visited Fitz, they’d practiced his presentation, had clocked it with a stopwatch and discussed possible crowd questions. He was more than ready, but, of course, being young and brilliant was a difficult thing to handle.

Adults never really understood how to cope with children smarter than they were, and the same could be said for children. It could be lonely most of the time, and during her visits Jemma tried her best to offer him words of encouragement. In a matter of years, they would meet in their natural timeline, and all would be well. But, of course, she never told him anything of his future despite his prying and protests.

When Jemma had realized she’d landed on the day of his presentation, she’d quickly donned Old Lady Heaney’s terrible mauve jumper and slacks and made her way to the student center. Fitz didn’t know she was present and she’d hoped to keep it that way, choosing instead to watch him from afar.

This young Fitz, stuck between child and adolescent, was awkward, trying to navigate his growing body, long-limbed and with teeth and cheekbones too sharp for his head. He was precious and Jemma felt a tug at her heartstrings. Is this what their son would look like? Gangly and fidgety? She hoped so, hoped they would have the chance—

Jemma’s own nervousness was quickly replaced by white hot fury as Alistair Fitz strode in, still dressed in the clothes from the night before judging by the rumpled state, his face already red and blotchy from too much drink. It wasn’t even noon yet. Her eyes zeroed in on the man as he made his way to where Fitz stood. In a matter of seconds, Fitz’s anxiety visibly shifted as he tipped his chin up and did his best to not cower. Jemma had to bite back a sob.

She wasn’t close enough to hear what the man said but she could tell by his body language that he was on a destructive tear. She watched as Fitz struggled not to curl in on himself, to hold his head high all the while avoiding eye contact with his father. The boy muttered something and Alistair seemed to lurch forward, hand balled in a fist at his side. Jemma’s heart stuttered as Fitz stepped back and she felt herself moving at a surprising speed.

“You’re nothing, boy,” she heard Alistair hiss at his son as he leaned far too close.

“Ah, Leo,” Jemma started in her best schoolmarm voice and the young boy did a double-take at the sight of her. “I’m so excited to see your presentation. I’ve heard excellent things.”

He inhaled shakily and chewed at his lower lip before trying to form a reply, but his father gave a harsh scoff.

“Can’t even speak—fat lot of good he’ll do on that stage,” Alistair sneered. “I’ve got an idiot for a son.”

Flames licked at the side of Jemma’s vision but she tried to keep her tone steady, if not icy. This man was a horrible excuse of a father and soon Fitz would be rid of him, but it wouldn’t do any good to cause a public scene.

“Oh, I disagree, Mr. Fitz.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Your son is one of the most brilliant people in this room. I have no doubt he’ll go on to do great things.”

“I prefer Dr. Fitz, _Miss_.” His voice dripped with disdain, his beady, bloodshot eyes locked on her. “And I highly doubt that. What could you possibly know about my son? Or about anything, really.” He sized her up, no doubt taking in her haphazard appearance. Jemma Simmons had dealt with her share of sniveling brutes and Alistair Fitz was no different.

“I know a fair amount, Dr. Fitz— _really? Doctor?_ Hmm. Interesting. Of course, makes sense, in an awful sort of way—you cut your son down because he’s already achieved more than you’ve ever done in the decades since your dissertation.” She stepped closer to the man, could feel the rage vibrating off of him. “I don’t particularly care for psychoanalysis. It’s not my strength. But I can’t help but wonder if that’s why you’re such a complete arsehole to your son, to your wife… that what you’re suffering from is simply a small mind.”

Alistair raised his open hand, no doubt to strike her, but Jemma was quick as she blocked his attempt, wedging her thumb into the fleshy bit of his wrist and pressing on the sensitive nerves hidden there. He let out a guttural moan and tried to twist his arm free, but Jemma stepped on the interior of his foot, leaning close so her knee aligned perfectly with his groin.

“We both know they’d be better off without you,” she whispered low, so only he could hear the malice. Then, releasing him with a shove, she motioned to a handful of gathered teachers. “Dr. Fitz was just leaving. Can you see he finds his way? This building can be a bit confusing for some.”

Blustering and glaring, Alistair Fitz stumbled his way back out of the auditorium and Jemma exhaled. She hadn’t intended to say or do any of those things… but she couldn’t stand by and watch that monster terrorize his son. Schooling her features, she turned back to Fitz. He was watching her with a stunned expression.

“Ah, yes, where were we? Fitz, I just wanted to come over and tell you how great you’ll do. I know you were nervous, but I’m confident you’ll blow this crowd out of the water.”

Before he could speak, the chairperson appeared and soon Fitz was being led to the stage, shooting glances back at her as he made his way down the aisle to the stairs.

To Jemma’s disappointment, she vanished before he could complete his presentation, but she had no doubt it was a rousing success. After all, the small first place trophy he’d received sat on the bookcase in their shared office.

xXx

**_Fitz, 30 (Jemma, 30)_ **

He awoke to Jemma half on top of him, her leg slung over his waist as she pressed soft kisses to his eyelids, his cheeks, the underside of his jaw.

“What—what time is it? Not that I don’t appreciate the wakeup call…” He blinked, bleary-eyed, and focused on the red numbers on the digital alarm clock across the room. 2:42 am. Then, with a tip of his head, he realized his wife was crying. Running his thumb over her cheek, he struggled to get a better look at her.

“What’s wrong, what’s happened?” She swallowed a sob and instead pulled him down, slanting her lips over his in a sweet but fierce kiss. Leaning back, he watched her with half-lidded eyes, brushed his nose along hers. Recognition rolled through him. “You… went somewhere, didn’t you?”

She gave a brief nod and he tucked her closer.

“When? I mean, where did you go?”

He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, urging her to finally meet his eyes. The sadness and worry he saw there made his heart ache. There had been a handful of times since they’d been together—really, truly together—when Jemma would return from her travels with a haunted look no amount of kisses could soothe away. He worried this was one of those times.

She nibbled at her lip before answering. “The science fair.”

He frowned, struggling to remember and then, in one sudden rush, all of the memories came back. He was ten; his father was drunk. His dark-haired friend, dressed in that terrible jumper he’d stolen from the neighbor lady, had swooped in and chased him off. Up until that point, Fitz had thought she was imaginary which was alarming all in itself, of course. He’d never seen her interact with anyone else. But his father had definitely seen her—had definitely felt the vice-like grip on his wrist.

Over the years, he and Jemma had talked about his father, about his brutality and drunkenness. About how he’d spent years trying to recover from the callous remarks the man had managed to throw at him with such ease. His mouth ticked up in a small smile, remembering the fierce way Jemma had blocked his father, had protected him when he was just a little boy.

He pulled her down into his arms, snuggling them both back under the covers.

“He left the next day. Did I ever tell you?” He dragged the tips of his fingers over her scalp. She shook her head, swallowing down a sob and somehow he managed to hold her tighter.

“Yeah, well, good riddance,” he murmured before brushing a kiss to her forehead.

xXx

**_Fitz, 16 (Jemma, 29)_ **

Fitz tried to be cool as he watched Jemma tuck into the peanut butter and jam sandwich and packet of crisps he’d smuggled out of his house for her, but the way she licked at the globs of blackberry jam running down her hand… He swallowed and shifted in his seat.

_ I’m in love with a ghost  _ he thought, blushing as she thumbed through his university packet for fall enrollment. She had no idea what she was doing to him and he’d prefer to keep it that way. It was just a crush. Of course it was just a crush. Girls had never really seemed interested in him, and she was brilliant and beautiful and she treated him with kindness and…

“Don’t you agree?”

Fitz blinked and then coughed, suddenly aware that Jemma had been speaking during his little daydream.

“Hmm? Yeah. Totally.”

“Oh, good, then it’s settled.” She closed the course booklet with a satisfied nod. “You’ll take the 7 am biochemistry course and the corresponding Friday lab.”

“Wait. What?” He was trying to keep his Fridays open so he could come home for the occasional three-day weekend. And biochemistry at the crack of dawn sounded like medieval torture. Jemma studied him for a moment before bursting out in peals of laughter.

“I knew you weren’t paying attention.” She munched on a crisp. “Where were you? Drifting off into space is usually my thing.”  

“Oh, ah. I was just...processing.” He shifted, willing his blush to not give away just what exactly he’d been thinking about. Without warning, Jemma placed her hand on his arm.

“Well, whatever you’re thinking, it’s natural, Fitz.”

He jumped, startled by her words. Could she read minds, as well as bounce around time dimensions? Eyeing her carefully, he waited for her to continue.

“Everybody worries before a big move, before starting a doctoral program. These are big life changes, but you’ll do great. I know it.”

“Ah, yeah.” He winced when his voice cracked and cleared his throat. “How about you?”

“Oh, I’ve already finished my doctoral degree,” she smiled.

“No, I mean, any big changes in your life?”

“Fitz,” she tilted her head. “You know I don’t like to talk about that sort of stuff.”

“Yeah, I know. We never do talk about that—about you. I just wondered, you know, what your life is like when you’re not…”

“Appearing in vacant schemes in Glasgow?” She arched an eyebrow and his stomach swooped.

“Exactly.” He tried to appear nonchalant as he posed his next question. “Are you… are you married?”

In all the years he’d known her, it seemed strange that he knew very little about her personal life. Initially, she’d claimed it was to minimize her impact on his timeline, but well, that hardly seemed to be the case. The sight of her standing up to his father was burned in his brain. He doubted he would ever forget it.

“Fitz.” She gave him a look but in this moment he felt bold. He knew if he waited, she’d offer him some tidbit about her life. Finally, she exhaled, “Yes, I’m married.”

His victory at getting an answer was tinged with bitterness. Not that it mattered if she was married or not—what kind of life could they lead? He was just a kid and she couldn’t maintain her temporal state.

“What’s he, uh, like?” The words fell out of his mouth and Fitz struggled not to groan. Why was he doing this to himself?

She ran her finger in the salt and crumbs at the bottom of the crisps packet.

“He’s a scientist. One of the smartest men I’ve ever met.” She was practically beaming, her expression suddenly soft and the definition of “lovey-dovey.” His heart sank.

“Ah.” Of course she was married to a brilliant scientist and they were madly in love. Of course. He was just a runt of a boy, anyway, and she was gorgeous. What would anyone like her want with him? He never should’ve asked in the first place.

“We’re thinking about having a baby, but well, I can’t exactly travel through dimensions while pregnant. It wouldn’t be safe.” She shrugged. “He’s trying to come up with a solution, something that’ll stop my time jumps. Or at least let me control when and where.”

She continued on, describing the various mechanisms her husband had created in an effort to keep her from time jumping, but Fitz struggled to focus. Listening as she talked about the life she had, about her  _ brilliant _ husband and the future they wanted to build… It was the only time he ever wished she would just disappear.

xXx

**_Jemma, 31 (Fitz, 31)_ **

She was traveling with a greater frequency, ending up not only in Glasgow during Fitz’s teenage years, but in Sheffield during her parents’ separation, and then in London for their reconciliation. She was growing more and more anxious upon each return, wondering when the next time jump would happen, and where it would take her.

She was a scientist and preferred the laws of nature, but the laws surrounding her abilities were untethered and irrational. She wanted to remain fixed in place, in one timeline. She wanted to remain  _ here _ in this now, with her husband where they could have a life together, free of worry.

She wanted a life free of interference—one with a future that was unseen and a surprise for them both.

Fitz was doing what he could, having spent the better part of five years designing and then redesigning several different prototypes for everything from a time fluctuation manager to a teleportation neutralizer to a transportation inhibitor. So far, nothing had worked—the neutralizer had  _ almost  _ worked, but there was something about the model that wasn’t quite right. But the inhibitor, well, that had done absolutely _nothing_.

Jemma felt a sense of desperation and dread bubbling up. What kind of life was this? They had been inseparable from the moment they met at uni. It had helped, of course, that he’d already known her—or some version of her—for the better part of a decade. What if he could have had, a normal life with a normal wife? He would have started a family by now, no doubt.

“Are you happy? Do  _ I _ make—?” The question trailed off but the unspoken words were clear and Fitz was just as stunned by her uncertainty as she was, judging by the sound of the tools falling from his hands and hitting the cement floor. Her questions had spilled from her mouth without first running through her head, she was certain. She clamored down from the stool and darted across the makeshift laboratory, reaching for his hand. “Oh, dear, here, let me look at that.”

She didn’t have to look up at him to know he was watching her, confused.

“Just a scratch. It’ll clot in a few minutes.”

Before Jemma could drop her hand back to her side, he caught her wrist and pulled her closer. With tears beginning to cloud her vision, she tried to avoid looking at him but he only held her tighter. She trembled.

“Jemma,” his voice was gentle but rough with barely contained emotion. He ran his thumb over her knuckles soothingly. She was comforted by the gesture, by his breath on her cheek as he spoke. “I’m not sure if I ever told you this part of the story. I know you’ve heard the bullet points, experienced most of it, but I don’t think I ever told you _all_ of it…” He struggled to find words. “Once, I met a girl—a woman, really. She was kind and lovely, whereas I was miserable and lonely. But when she visited, she made me feel better—made the days brighter. She was the greatest friend I ever had, and to make matters worse, I had a massive crush on her. But, you know, teenage boys are just… _the worst._ ”

Jemma snorted, leaning against him as he continued his story. She was content just to listen, to learn something she hadn’t previously known about their frequent encounters during his youth.

“But it was difficult to know that I only saw this brief flash of her—that she made such a lasting impact on my life in these short moments, and then went back to her happy life… Then I made the rookie mistake of asking about her husband.” Although his tone was self-depreciating, when Jemma glanced up she was stunned by the momentary sadness she saw mirrored back at her. “I was jealous of him, of the man waiting for you at home. You looked so happy when you talked about him and I hated him, how messed up is that?”

“You didn’t know,” she whispered, but he shook his head and continued.

“I sorted out your time jumping problem, once. Or I thought I did. It was right around when you visited and told me you wanted to start a family. I sketched something that might’ve worked. _Probably_ would’ve worked. And then I chucked it in the bin.” He glowered, his expression turning cloudy. “Because I was selfish. I didn’t want you to stop visiting me. I wanted to keep a part of you for myself.”

“Quite the teenager, you.” She gave him a gentle nudge, trying to temper his self-loathing.

“It was selfish,” he repeated.

“You were a kid, Fitz.” She brushed a kiss to his throat. “And a strange— _naked_ —woman would appear to you at random times. All things considered, you turned out pretty well.”

He rolled his eyes, bemused, before wrapping his arm back around her.

“Well, to answer your question, yes, Jemma, I’m happy. This is the life that awkward, weird,  _ horny _ little kid dreamed about, and it just so happens it was my life all along.”

She smiled a watery smile, soothed by his words but still feeling a tinge of regret.

“But it can’t be easy, though. To have your wife vanish at odd times, to have your life so topsy-turvy.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad.” He kissed her temple. “Would I prefer you were never afflicted with this odd condition? Of course. I want to keep you safe. But I also know when you’re gone from me, chances are you’re helping _him_ , and well, he needs you just as much as I do. If you hadn’t appeared in that vacant lot, I’m not sure I’d be standing here with the woman I love in my arms.”

“That’s quite poetic for a physicist.”

“I contain multitudes, Jemma.” He winked playfully before sobering. “Are _you_ happy?”

She didn’t need to think about her answer.

“More than I ever thought possible.”

Then she raised on her toes and drew him in for a sweet kiss that soon turned heated.

xXx

**_Jemma, 32 (Fitz, 16)_ **

According to her husband, the summer before he started his graduate program was the last time he saw Jemma outside of their shared timeline. She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, or if it was good or bad, but she knew something drastic must’ve happened to cause her to stop visiting.

“I know this probably sounds really dumb, but I’m nervous.” Fitz bounced his knee under the table, his notepad spread out in front of him as he doodled various devices and mechanisms. Often, Jemma would catch her husband sketching in margins whenever he was processing or anxious. It was a habit she knew he’d developed early and she found it endearing. Peering closer, she noticed this particular doodle was accompanied by several lines of mathematical formulas.

“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous,” Jemma murmured, only paying attention by half. “…Why exactly are you nervous?”

She glanced once more at his notes. From this angle, upside down, it looked like an early draft of a time equalizer, something to end her time jumping… but, judging by the accompanying formula, this one looked like it had the potential to _work_. She remembered what Fitz had said about throwing out a sketch years ago and wondered if this could be it.

“It’s just this is the farthest I’ve been away from home.” He frowned. “I sound like a baby.”

“No. Hardly. Lots of people get anxious, moving so far away from home. It’s a big step.”

Knowing she couldn’t take anything from one dimension to another when she traveled, Jemma did her best to memorize the pieces, from the bits of the drawing to the elements of the formula. If she could store it in her brain long enough to get it back to her husband, then maybe he would remember what he’d started all those years ago…

“Do you think—Do you think you’ll be there?” Fitz stopped fidgeting and Jemma glanced up, startled, unsure exactly what he was asking and what she should tell him. “I mean, you’ve only ever shown up here in Glasgow, but I’ve never really lived anywhere else, so that’s hardly a fair assumption…”

“Fitz—”

“It’s just talking to you is the only time I feel clear.” Jemma could tell he wasn’t really focused on the notepad in front of him, that his mind was spinning with worry and nerves. But before she could mentally run through the formula one last time, he ripped the page out of the book, balled it up and tossed it at the rubbish bin.

His shoulders slumped, far world-wearier than an average sixteen-year-old boy. Jemma’s heart ached and she reached out, gently squeezing his wrist. With wide-eyes, he looked up at her.

“One day,” she started, “you will meet someone.” He flinched but she continued. “In fact, it’ll be the second day of school. She’ll wear a turquoise cardigan, and her hair will be up, and she’ll think quite a lot of herself. But from that moment on, you’ll be inseparable.”  

He hadn’t looked away while she spoke, his mouth dropping slightly in surprise. She wondered if he realized what exactly she was telling him.

“How can you know? Why are you—? I thought you didn’t want to tempt fate?”

“Time, fate— _the cosmos_ —it’s all what you make of it, Fitz.” Jemma smiled. “Remember that, and give her a chance, yeah? Trust her. She’ll do her best to never let you down.”

xXx

**_Fitz, 36 (Jemma, 36)_ **

It has been years since Jemma time jumped. Together, she and her husband had solved the dimensional fluctuation abnormalities, essentially locking her in place. However, not everything came with such an easy solution.

They hadn’t figured out the kid thing yet and Jemma remained unsure about passing on her genetic condition. Regardless, Fitz was supportive, assuring her that he was happy to follow her lead on that front. They were contemplating adopting a baby—or three, but for the time being, they were content with looking after a dog and two cats.

Together, they continued to build their life, one filled with new and exciting adventures never before experienced by either of them. It was quite thrilling.

Now, they were traveling to places of their own free will, by plane, train, and automobile. Jemma loved it. Fitz had suggested she write down all the places she’d wanted to go over the years but had been too scared to visit. And then, together, they ticked them off, one by one.

Today’s adventure had them back in London, at the Royal Observatory.

“I can’t believe you wanted to stay so close to home,” Fitz scoffed, good-naturedly.

“This is hardly close to home.” Jemma tucked her hand through his arm as they strolled through the halls, taking in the sights. “We’re spending the night at a hotel, after all.”

“Yes, of course. But we could’ve gone to Australia, or Thailand, or the Maldives…”

“I hold great affection for this place,” she chided. “It’s where it all started, you know.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up in a half smile as he tugged her along.

“Speaking of, we should hurry if you want to see the meridian.”

She gently pulled him back in stride, not willing to pick up the pace. 

“There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”  


End file.
